philanthropist. He needed us to find Graus, and personally offered to finance an archaeological expedition should we could recover the candle.’
‘Where to?’
‘He hasn’t revealed the exact location. But we know the area. Al Mudawwara, Jordan.’
‘Great, then there’s nothing to worry about,’ Fowler interrupted. ‘Do you know what’s going to happen if anyone gets even a sniff of this? Nobody on that expedition will live long enough to lift a shovel.’
‘Let’s hope you’re wrong. We’re going to send an observer with the expedition: you.’
Fowler shook his head. ‘No.’
‘You’re aware of the consequences, the ramifications.’
‘My answer is still no.’
‘You can’t refuse.’
‘Try stopping me,’ said the priest, heading for the door.
‘Anthony, my boy.’ The words followed him as he walked towards the exit. ‘I’m not saying I’m going to try to stop you. You must be the one who decides to go. Luckily, over the years, I’ve learned how to deal with you. I had to recall the only thing you value more than your freedom, and I found the perfect solution.’
Fowler stopped, still with his back to them.
‘What have you done, Camilo?’
Cirin took a few steps towards him. If there was anything he disliked more than talking, it was raising his voice.
‘In speaking to Mr Kayn, I suggested the best reporter for his expedition. Actually, as a reporter she’s fairly average. And not too pretty, or sharp, or even overly honest. In fact, the only thing that makes her interesting is that once you saved her skin. How do you say it - she owes you her life? So now you won’t be making a dash to hide yourself in the nearest soup kitchen, because you know the risk she’s running.’
Still Fowler didn’t turn around. With each of Cirin’s words, his hand had begun closing a little more until it was clenched in a fist, his fingernails digging into his palm. But the pain wasn’t enough. He slammed his fist into one of the niches. The impact made the crypt shake. The wooden door of the ancient resting place splintered and a bone from the desecrated vault rolled out onto the floor.
‘St Soutiño’s kneecap. Poor man, he limped his entire life,’ said Brother Cesáreo, bending down to pick up the relic.
Fowler, by now resigned, finally turned to face them.
10
EXCERPT FROM RAYMOND KAYN: THE UNAUTHORISED BIOGRAPHY
BY ROBERT DRISCOLL
Many readers might ask how a Jew without much of a background, who lived off charity during his childhood, managed to create such a vast financial empire. It is clear from the previous pages that prior to December 1943, Raymond Kayn did not exist. There is no record of his birth certificate, no document that confirms he’s an American citizen.
The period of his life about which most is known began when he enrolled in MIT and amassed a sizable list of patents. While the United States was embracing the glorious 1960s, Kayn was reinventing the integrated circuit. Within five years he owned his own company; within ten, half of Silicon Valley.
This period was well documented in Time magazine, along with the misfortunes that destroyed his life as a father and husband . . .
Perhaps what most troubles the average American is his invisibility, this lack of transparency that transforms someone so powerful into a disturbing enigma. Sooner or later, someone must lift the aura of mystery that surrounds the figure of Raymond Kayn . . .
11
ON BOARD THE BEHEMOTH
THE RED SEA
Tuesday, 11 July 2006. 4:29 p.m.
. . . someone must lift the aura of mystery surrounding the figure of Raymond Kayn . . .
Andrea smiled broadly and set aside the biography of Raymond Kayn. It was a lurid, biased piece of shit and she’d been completely bored by it as she flew over the Sahara desert on her way to Djibouti.
During the flight Andrea had had time to do something she rarely did: take a good long look at herself. And she decided that she didn’t like what she
‘Where to?’
‘He hasn’t revealed the exact location. But we know the area. Al Mudawwara, Jordan.’
‘Great, then there’s nothing to worry about,’ Fowler interrupted. ‘Do you know what’s going to happen if anyone gets even a sniff of this? Nobody on that expedition will live long enough to lift a shovel.’
‘Let’s hope you’re wrong. We’re going to send an observer with the expedition: you.’
Fowler shook his head. ‘No.’
‘You’re aware of the consequences, the ramifications.’
‘My answer is still no.’
‘You can’t refuse.’
‘Try stopping me,’ said the priest, heading for the door.
‘Anthony, my boy.’ The words followed him as he walked towards the exit. ‘I’m not saying I’m going to try to stop you. You must be the one who decides to go. Luckily, over the years, I’ve learned how to deal with you. I had to recall the only thing you value more than your freedom, and I found the perfect solution.’
Fowler stopped, still with his back to them.
‘What have you done, Camilo?’
Cirin took a few steps towards him. If there was anything he disliked more than talking, it was raising his voice.
‘In speaking to Mr Kayn, I suggested the best reporter for his expedition. Actually, as a reporter she’s fairly average. And not too pretty, or sharp, or even overly honest. In fact, the only thing that makes her interesting is that once you saved her skin. How do you say it - she owes you her life? So now you won’t be making a dash to hide yourself in the nearest soup kitchen, because you know the risk she’s running.’
Still Fowler didn’t turn around. With each of Cirin’s words, his hand had begun closing a little more until it was clenched in a fist, his fingernails digging into his palm. But the pain wasn’t enough. He slammed his fist into one of the niches. The impact made the crypt shake. The wooden door of the ancient resting place splintered and a bone from the desecrated vault rolled out onto the floor.
‘St Soutiño’s kneecap. Poor man, he limped his entire life,’ said Brother Cesáreo, bending down to pick up the relic.
Fowler, by now resigned, finally turned to face them.
10
EXCERPT FROM RAYMOND KAYN: THE UNAUTHORISED BIOGRAPHY
BY ROBERT DRISCOLL
Many readers might ask how a Jew without much of a background, who lived off charity during his childhood, managed to create such a vast financial empire. It is clear from the previous pages that prior to December 1943, Raymond Kayn did not exist. There is no record of his birth certificate, no document that confirms he’s an American citizen.
The period of his life about which most is known began when he enrolled in MIT and amassed a sizable list of patents. While the United States was embracing the glorious 1960s, Kayn was reinventing the integrated circuit. Within five years he owned his own company; within ten, half of Silicon Valley.
This period was well documented in Time magazine, along with the misfortunes that destroyed his life as a father and husband . . .
Perhaps what most troubles the average American is his invisibility, this lack of transparency that transforms someone so powerful into a disturbing enigma. Sooner or later, someone must lift the aura of mystery that surrounds the figure of Raymond Kayn . . .
11
ON BOARD THE BEHEMOTH
THE RED SEA
Tuesday, 11 July 2006. 4:29 p.m.
. . . someone must lift the aura of mystery surrounding the figure of Raymond Kayn . . .
Andrea smiled broadly and set aside the biography of Raymond Kayn. It was a lurid, biased piece of shit and she’d been completely bored by it as she flew over the Sahara desert on her way to Djibouti.
During the flight Andrea had had time to do something she rarely did: take a good long look at herself. And she decided that she didn’t like what she
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